“The kitchen at my parents large Capitol Hill home was packed with people chatting, milling around and waiting to eat. The large table in the dining room had so many chairs and extensions that it almost stretched into the living room. My extended family had gathered – not for the first time – to bid one of its members a fond farewell as he threw off the bow line and set sail into the unknown. David Shmavid was taking off for Albany, New York to start a brand new life with his fiancee Michelle. How did the Shmave grow up so fast? I seem to recall countless hours of watching Saturday morning cartoons in our jammies, playing with small and varied action figures, running around the house trailing cookie crumbs and the like and having wide and varied conversations at the kids table during the holidays. And that was just last month. Just kidding. Six years ago, following graduation from Seattle University, I was in David’s seat. Ready to set off across the nation to settle somewhere in the grand state of Wyoming. My much touted adventure lasted about a week. Rumor has it my eldest brother Matt won the bet on how long I would last out on my own. I wasn’t discouraged or disappointed because I knew I’d be heading back to a place where friends and family members were numerous. Shortly thereafter, I was heading off again. This time, not so far east but far enough. I lasted three long years in Colfax, a small farming town on the eastern edge of the state, before I found myself heading home again. I’m not sure how Matt did on that one. Anyway, sitting near my brother as he gave his farewell speech was as odd for me as it must have been for him six years ago. It’s always hard to see the ones we love leave. It never gets any easier either, I’m finding. This has been a strange year and a half for me honestly and one where I’ve watched great numbers of close friends migrate away. David and Michelle, Barrett and Frank, Katy, Tony and Leslie, Darby, Jeff and Kari, Bill (soon enough) have all left here for somewhere else. And while I have made many other good friends since, losing one’s core group is never a fun transition. There have been pledges to move back, promises to keep in touch and so on but I find they are very seldom kept. Or is it just me? I enjoy the small details of life. It gives me a much better understanding of the world around me, I find. But this closeness is most often lost as distances grow. Much like the newspaper business, everything reported during discussions with friends far away seems to deal only with unintimate matters of larger importance. Sports. Politics. Careers. Relationships. And so on. Rarely are we given the day-to-day run down on everything from a painfully stubbed toe or a bunk skiing trip to a cat that showed up on its owner’s doorstep with a breaded chicken wing (No fooling on that last one). But that’s the good stuff. Those are the things I miss most of my departed friends and the things I hear about the least in our telephone and e-mail conversations. Am I getting melancholy with age? Perhaps. Wiser? Hopefully. The lesson I’m learning is that the smallest of details really do matter – even more so than the bigger picture. The way a friend laughs, blushes, smiles or tells a story is what makes him or her unique and interesting. As they continue to depart and enter my life these are the memories that stand out in my mind the most and the ones that have already secured them all a place in my heart. Sometimes having someone leave is a great reminder of how fortunate I am to have gotten to know that person as a friend in the first place. I am forever grateful that I have had these experiences. “